


It's the Great Pumpkin, Oz Fitzgerald

by ndmd



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndmd/pseuds/ndmd
Summary: “Oz has absolutely no sense of the Halloween spirit,” he shook his head with a perplexed frown.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TransparentFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransparentFairy/gifts).



Oz Fitzgerald didn’t like holidays.

He hated Christmas and he hated receiving gifts, hated having to feign cheer and hated owing people. He hated Thanksgiving, hated being thankful for relatively nothing at all, hated the odd looks he received when he turned down a litany of fattening food in favor of his health. He hated special occasions, as if one day was somehow more important than the others, as if a manmade construct meant anything, anything at all.

And he especially hated Halloween. He hated the notion that being frightened and vulnerable all under the pretense of playing dress up was somehow fun, and no, no he would most certainly not be attending the Halloween dance, why ever would he?

That’s what he told the very stupid, very appalled classmate who’d just invited him. The boy simply stood there with a gaping expression.

“Close your mouth, you’ll let flies in,” he drawled, hoping that if he pissed him off enough he’d go away.

He abruptly shut his mouth, and his shocked look was replaced with an angry one. Before Oz had a chance to insult him again, he’d taken a furious step closer to him, raised his hand and  _dear god,_  Oz thought, rubbing his suddenly raw face,  _the guy knows how to slap._

 

And that’s how, on Halloween day, he found himself in the principal’s office sitting in a chair next to Petunia Flowers.

The principal was not a man he often saw, as he made it a point to stay out of trouble (usually), by simply not interacting with anyone and keeping his head down. It was an exceedingly dull existence, but it was worth it if only to avoid Mr. Lawrence.

The man never yelled or even bristled, he just smiled, looking like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than scolding you. There was nothing anyone could ever do to break his calm veneer and that was utterly terrifying.

“Mr. Lawrence,” Oz said in greeting, outwardly collected, as he was also quite good with masks of indifference.

“Mr. Oz Fitzgerald,” he said with that smile, and then nodded to the other boy. “Mr. Petunia Flowers.”

Oz couldn’t contain a snort.

“Petunia Flowers?” He mouthed incredulously to Flowers, who shrugged, somehow not looking offended at all despite having just slapped Oz for rejecting him.

“I assume you know why I’ve called you here.”

“Yes, must be because my shirt was un-tucked,” Oz deadpanned, surprised when Petunia covered his mouth to stifle a giggle. Oz smiled a little, barely a quirk of the lips. Mr. Lawrence shot him a look, with sharp, calm eyes and Oz’s quickly wiped his features blank.

“I’m sorry about that,” Flowers sighed, sounding genuinely sorry. This kid was full of surprises. “I get frustrated sometimes. I’m working on it.”

“Why, pray tell, were you frustrated?” Oz was relieved when Mr. Lawrence’s eyes turned to Flowers and off him.

“Oz has absolutely no sense of the Halloween spirit,” he shook his head with a perplexed frown. “And he seems to think he doesn’t want to go to the dance with me, which is ludicrous, because just look at the symmetry of my facial features, Mr. Lawrence.”

Oz sneered. “Your right eyelid is slightly larger than your left,” he said, without having to look. When he did glance over, Flowers looked horrified.

“What? That’s impossible.” His fingers were roaming frantically over his face and Oz was certain he’d run for a mirror the second he had a chance.

“I assure you, it’s not.” He looked back to the principal.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you were slapped by Mr. Flowers. Is this correct?”

Just as Flowers opened his mouth, Oz opened his.

“Correct,” he quickly said. “Because I was honest about the fact that Halloween dances are ridiculous. May we go now?”

Mr. Lawrence didn’t frown, he smiled, and then he opened his slimy smiling mouth and sentenced them both to  _death_.

 

“Chin up, it’s just helping with a Halloween dance, Oz,” Flowers said on the way back to class, looking entirely too cheerful. “We’ll have fun!”

“We are not on a first name basis, Flowers,” he snapped. “And stop smiling, won’t you, unless you want to turn into Mr. Lawrence.”

Flowers seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head, a resounding no, and his grin grew wider.

“We’ll have fun,” he repeated, but this time it sounded like a promise.

Oz didn’t bother continuing that line of conversation, so he moved on to the topic at hand.

“Can we get to planning this consumerist nightmare holiday dance, already?” He didn’t want an answer, but the insipid boy nodded enthusiastically regardless. “What are we doing for entertainment? Preferably free things.”

“Free spooky things,” Flowers amended, wiggling his eyebrows. “Lucky for you, I’m the king of free spooky things.”

Oz rolled his eyes. “That’s a very specific thing to be king of.”

“Better than being king of buzz kill kingdom,” he said, a stupid grin on his face. Oz opened his mouth to retort but closed it shut as he realized he was participating in semi-friendly banter, eurgh.

“You know what, you take care of all of it,” he decided. “You seem willing enough. I’ll just meet you in the gym an hour before the dance."

“You want me to plan an entire Halloween dance by myself, by tonight?”

Perhaps he  _was_  being irrational, Oz thought, and while he wasn’t thrilled by this whole affair he was, if nothing e lse, a rational being. He sighed.

“If that is unreasonable –“ He began, gritting his teeth, just as Flowers said, with pure joy in his voice: “I’ll do it!” Oz sighed in both exasperation and relief.

“All right. I’ll see you tonight, then, I suppose.”

 

He had been expecting pumpkins and candles and plastic spiders, but what he got was much scarier:

A landscape of pink.

“What on Earth –“

Flowers was standing on the top step of a ladder, on his tip toes, trying to reach the basketball hoop, a paper heart ornament grasped in his extended hand. At the sound of Oz’s voice echoing off the gym walls, he turned his head and nearly lost his balance. “Oz!” He shouted, once he’d steadied himself. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know,” he said. “Just looking for a Halloween dance, but it seems I’ve gone back in time to Valentine’s Day, pardon me, I’ll see myself out.”

“No, it’s Halloween!” He shook his head fondly. “Oz, it’s really ridiculous that you believe in time travel.”

“Yes, that’s what’s ridiculous about this situation,” he muttered, making his way across the gym. He looked up at Flowers from the bottom of the ladder. “Flowers, I thought you were the king of…spooky free things.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin dropping. “But you obviously hate Halloween, so I’m not making it spooky.”

“You imbecile,” he sighed. “Come down here."

Once Flowers had been convinced to abandon his decorating and come down, they sat on the bleachers and Oz resisted the urge to pull his hair out.

“Why?” Oz asked him, simply.

“I just wanted you to like it.”

“It does not matter whether I like it. I wasn’t going to attend anyway.”

Flowers looked as if Oz had just slapped  _him_.

“But I’ve been working on it all day, for like four hours –“

“Four hours which you have wasted,” he snapped, and he wished he could be kind, just once, to this stupid boy who’d gone out of his way to accommodate him, but he just wasn’t a kind person and Flowers must’ve known that. Mustn’t have expected more from him, despite the way he winced at Oz’s tone. He must’ve known, and if he didn’t, well, that was on him. “I will not have Mr. Lawrence involving my parents in this matter, but he surely will call them if we monumentally screw his punishment up.”

“I’ll just tell him it was all my fault!”

“And then he’ll know I didn’t do any of the work, dumbass,” Oz didn’t often use crude language, but this seemed like an appropriate occasion.

“Sorry,” Flowers murmured.

“Don’t be,” Oz said, because that was the least he could say. “But that means we’ve got an hour to redecorate.”

 

The Halloween store, for whatever reason, was closed. Silly, really, as it was Halloween.

“We can go to the thrift store,” Flowers suggested.

“Possibly the first decent idea your mind has ever produced,” Oz said. Flowers, seeming to take that as a compliment, beamed at him.

They changed courses, and before they knew it they were rifling through boxes of donated junk.

“Nothing in this one,” Flowers said, holding an empty box. Objects were strewn around them like heaps of trash, probably why the only employee present was glaring at them from her station. “I’ll look in the back, they have bigger objects and things. One time I got a puppet theatre from here, and let me tell you, I put on the best dang puppet rendition of Shakespeare the world has ever seen,” he said, standing up.

“I’m sure,” Oz said, choosing his battles wisely.

Five minutes later, he heard a squeal, and looked up in alarm to find Flowers running toward him.

“What happened?” He questioned, scanning Flowers for any injuries.

“I - were you concerned about me?”

Oz scowled. “Dream on, Flowers.”

“I will,” he nodded seriously. “Anyway, no, I just found the perfect thing. Come see.”

After a lot of dragging Oz’s arm on Flowers’ part, they stood in front of a box that read THE GREAT FORTUNE TELLING PHOENIX in gaudy purple letters. The box itself was golden with excessive embellishments, and a realistic looking mechanical person with a scarf on its head sat inside, presumably the aforementioned Phoenix. Flowers pushed a button, and Phoenix’s eyes lit up, red, glowing, and more than a little creepy.

“Step right up and have your fortune told,” Phoenix bellowed. Oz wasn’t entirely sure of its gender, as it had long hair, long lashes, and a fairly androgynous voice. “Insert a coin and breathe in the mists of fate!”

Flowers, practically bouncing on his heels, dug a quarter from his pocket and pushed it in the slot.

“Oh, what’s this?” The thing said. “Luck is on its way. Make sure to tell it hello for me, you lucky dog.”

“The hell kind of dialogue is that?” Oz wondered aloud.

Flowers, far from a sympathetic audience to his skepticism, giggled in delight.

“Hear that, Oz? Luck’s coming! Wanna hear your fortune?”

“No,” he said, already heading to the check-out, “I’d rather not.”

In the end, they’d scrapped together some plastic pumpkins, Christmas lights which Flowers had colored orange and black with markers, spooky candles and a stash of fun sized candy from Dollar General, which Flowers had eaten half of already.

The fortune teller box was the highlight of it all, mainly because the other shit they’d acquired was just that – shit. Honestly, it was shit. The gym looked like goodwill had thrown up all over it. But Flowers seemed rather taken by all of it, standing proudly with his hands on his hips as the guests finally arrived.

“We did it,” he said, giddy, to Oz. Oz couldn’t match his excitement, but he did reluctantly smile, hating to admit to himself that Flowers was growing on him, and no, that was not a pun on the boy’s name.

The guests had looks of confusion on their faces as they inspected the decor, but once the spooky music was playing and they’d spotted the mini snickers bars, they didn’t seem to mind. Soon enough, miraculously, the party was in full swing.

“I’m proud of ya, Oz,” Flowers said, a while later. They were sitting on the bleachers, and had been sitting in peaceful silence, just watching the guests. Oz wished it could’ve stayed that way – silent – but it was not to be, apparently. He sighed.

“For what?”

“You know. You stuck with it. You came through,” he smiled. Oz found himself unable to speak, though his tongue burned with a thousand snarky retorts. “Anyway…I’m gonna go dance with Dormi.”

“Dormi?” His brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” He got up and pointed to a boy with hair just as long as his swaying to the music. “He’s my friend. He’s kind of obsessed with this other kid and I think it’ll be good for him to distance himself, so I convinced him to come with me instead…since you said no.” He smiled. “Wanna dance with us?”

“No,” Oz said, automatically. “Of course not. I don’t know him. And don’t  _want_  to know _you_ , but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Flowers looked hurt for only a millisecond, before happily shrugging. “Okay, king buzz kill, your majesty, but if you want to know people, you’ve only got to  _ask_ , you know.” He paused. “But whatever, I’ll see ya.”

“No, you won’t –“

“Yeah, I will, you need me, grumps.” He smiled before retreating.

Oz watched as Flowers sauntered off and then was swallowed by the crowd, feeling…

Feeling just fine, he told himself as he got up with a scowl.

On his way to the exit, he passed the fortune telling box, which was surprisingly a big hit with the students. He decided then and there to collect the coins for himself once this fiasco had come to a close and buy himself a new chemistry set.

He stared at the thing, which stared blankly back with its unsettling red eyes. He popped in a coin, unsure why he was doing so, and watched Phoenix come to life.

“You’ve only got to  _ask_ , you know,” it cackled, sounding delighted. “Make sure to ask before you die, Oz Fitzgerald.” It paused. “And make sure you get a good last meal.”

Oz’s brow furrowed. The thing knew his name, and –

His head was jerked back, he was on the floor, violently convulsing and before he could even register the pain (a thousand needles, piercing his flesh, burning burning burning), Oz Fitzgerald woke up in a dark cell, his hair clinging to his forehead with sweat.

“What  _was_  that?” He wondered, in a quiet whisper. Theo stirred in the bunk beneath him.

 

Dormi, Phoenix, and Flowers were already at breakfast when he arrived, laughing, dressed in makeshift costumes.

He sat down with a tray of food he wouldn’t eat.

“Ozzy!” Phoenix, encased in toilet paper, grinned. Oz was relieved when he looked up and met crystal blue eyes rather than crimson.

“Morning, Oz,” Dormi, wrapped in a black sheet, greeted. He smiled a soft smile, suited to mornings, suited to Dormi. “How come you weren’t earlier than us as usual?”

The rest of the group nodded, and Oz felt the stares of each of them.

“A better question,” he evaded, “is why you are all dressed up, and what you're supposed to  _be_.”

“It’s Halloween!” Flowers exclaimed. He pointed to the pink construction paper taped to his head, shaped like petals. "And I'm a flower."

"I'm Death, the grim reaper," Dormi said, pulling the sheet tighter around his shoulders. It was actually just a regular white sheet turned black with marker, and it reminded Oz too much of the Halloween lights for his comfort.

"I'm a mummy," Phoenix said, his smile visible through layers of toilet paper.

“Halloween is a pointless holiday that celebrates fear and consumerism and –“

“And early onset diabetes, yes, yes, you said the same shit about Christmas, Oz,” Phoenix rolled his eyes.

Dormi nodded. “Yeah. You said reindeer were being romanticized,” he giggled. “That’s why we didn’t mention it to you.” He paused. “You don’t care, right?”

You’ve only got to  _ask_ , you know, both dream-Flowers and dream-Phoenix had said, but Oz’s throat clenched and all that came out was a grunt.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Flowers said, “he’s a grumpy ol’ Grandpa.”

Oz rolled his eyes, deciding that he much preferred the dream versions of his friends.

“How will we do trick or treating? We don’t have enough money to get that much commission candy,” Dormi asked Phoenix, who shrugged.

“I have a lot of food stockpiled,” Oz murmured, not meeting their eyes. “Cookies and puddings and such. But we mustn’t waste too much.”

Flowers beamed, and they all broke out into excited chatter.

 

That night, they traded stale sweets, pretending they weren’t in prison, and Death loomed over Oz’s head.

"Can I get some of that Jell-O, Oz?" Death asked nicely. He had ink stains all over his arms from the cloak rubbing off on him.

"Sure, Dormi," Oz said, handing him a strawberry one.

 _Soon_ , he thought, as he watched his friends,  _we'll get out of here, and I won’t have to die._


End file.
